The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Mangoes
by butterflyninja935
Summary: -But wait, mangoes don't lay plans! Mouse Brown is the daughter of Mr. Brown the blacksmith, Will's master, who she doesn't get along with at all. When Will tries to leave Port Royal to save Elizabeth, Mouse is NOT letting him go alone. Adventures ensue!


**A/N: Hello, beings! Welcome to my first long serious fic! Well, any fic with a non-OOC Captain Jack can't be **_**that**_** serious, but oh well. Enjoy, and do not forget to review! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned PotC, I would be 1) not here, 2) a lot richer than I am, and 3) married to Johnny Depp. Therefore, I do not own PotC. **

"Mangoes, mangoes, WE LOVE YOU!" came the shout from over the roof. "So delicious, and juicy too, mangoes, mangoes, WE…LOVE…YOUUUUUUUUUUU!"

"If you are going to sing, Tadpole, please do try to sing on key, and do sing about a subject that people enjoy hearing songs about." The commodore didn't even look up, probably scared he was going to get hit on the head with the fruit the young street rat was singing about. However, he did have a point. Thaddeus Baker cannot sing.

"But everyone enjoys hearing songs about mangoes!" Tadpole's light brown head peeked over the roof of my father's shop.

"I-he who can arrest you-does not enjoy hearing songs about mangoes. _Shut up._"

"That's harsh." I said from my place seated against the wall of Mr. Devon O'Callaghan's house, across from my father's blacksmith shop. "Singing about mangoes ain't illegal."

"It's 'isn't', Mouse, not 'ain't'. If you're going to speak, speak properly."

"And not-right grammar ain't illegal none neither," I replied with a smirk. "You will never win this fight."

"But I keep trying."

"We know that. Why else would we avoid you?"

"You two are right here, I wouldn't call that avoiding me."

"There's right thirty o' us at least! Two outa thirty ain't much." Tad argued.

"That would be one fifteenth. Which _isn't_ much, I concede."

"You con seed? You steal seeds?" I asked.

"No, concede means that, well, that I admit you're correct."

"Oh, then thank you." I smiled my most charming smile. Makes me look like a right fool or stalker, but I keep trying. The commodore ain't much different from me, really, but he'll never admit that. He's the cap-I meant commodore. He just got promoted today, and it'll take me a while to remember, like always. But I'll get it, eventually, and life'll go on like it always does in the King's Colony of Port Royal, Jamaica, the best place in the whole world _including Australia_, which is a place way far away where they send criminals and Jaimsy says there's animals that don't live nowhere else, but I don't believe him. Who's ever heard of a jumping animal with a pouch for their baby? It's a sailor's tale, and sailor's tales you gotta take with a grain of salt, which I used to think actually meant put salt on it, but then Will informed me that it was a figure of speech.

Speaking of Will, he came rushing up the street. "Maria. Katherine. Brown. Where have you been? I was looking all over for you!"

"I been sitting right here since they came out of the smithy with that pirate," I replied. "And you know my name is Mouse."

"The whole purpose of having a nickname is that so you can tell when you're really in trouble, Mouse." He ruffled my hair. "I thought you left."

"No, I stayed here. I was waiting for you."

"Where is Elizabeth?" asked the commodore. I could detect a bit of-was that _jealousy_ in his voice? Poor Will.

Will shrugged, remarkably good at keeping his expression perfectly neutral. "I wouldn't presume to know, but I would guess they took her back to the governor's mansion."

"And hopefully called a doctor," muttered Norry as he walked away. "I hope she's alright…" I did not catch the end of his sentence.

"Do I detect male jealousy?" asked Tadpole in a slightly suggestive way as he clambered down from the roof, which is surprisingly easy to clamber down from because there is a ladder against the building.

"No one ever said you were stupid, Tad," I grinned back.

"How wrecked is the smithy?" Will asked me, his face turning red. "I doubt your father has cleaned anything up…"

"Aww, you're blushing!" laughed Tad.

"Oh, go away." Will looked genuinely annoyed. His face was even redder.

"Tad, tell everyone I'll be 'long in a bit. The smithy could use some fixin'."

"Damned pirate," Will grumbled.

"I thought it was interesting. I just met a real pirate, brother! A real dangerous pirate!"

Tad shuffled away as Will guided me inside the smithy. "Mouse, pirates are dangerous. They should be avoided."

"But I like pirates!"

"Mouse." He gripped my bicep harder than was really necessary. "Pirates break the law. Pirates are to be shunned and hanged at the gallows."

"But sometimes followin' t' law is worse n' breakin' it!"

"When?"

"I dunno, but there's gotta be sometime!"

"Check if all the swords are still there." I could nearly see the frost on Will's words.

William Turner doesn't lie, he doesn't steal, he doesn't cheat anyone. He's always fair and-what's the word?-noble. If anyone's going to heaven, it's my honorary brother. He's a law-abiding, good man.

But sometimes, the only way to have any fun is to be annoying and mischievous, to break the law in a small way and to like it like that, which I do. If they have mangoes in hell, I really won't care. I doubt they do, but an eleven year old can hope.

I counted the swords. I can count, and up to thirty-five, too, but not read or write. I never wanted to learn. So Will taught me swordplay instead. I'm not as good as he is, but I can hold my own against people in the town who might try to rob me. Which is good, as I am short and skinny and I look like an easy target for any would-be robbers.

"All the swords are here," I called.

"They are? Good. Where is your father?"

"Spreading the news in the market of how he single-handedly fought off a pirate," came a voice from outside.

"Jaimsy!" I ran over to the door and hugged him. "Good to see you."

"What?" Will asked incredulously. "He did nothing! I did all the sword fighting, he just whacked the pirate-what was his name? -Jack Sparrow, yes, over the head with his bottle."

"I wanted to swordfight an real pirate," I added, "but I got here too late. I just followed the soldiers once I figured out they were comin' here. Then Norry came back here from the jail before Will did, I dunno why. Guess he just wanted to see the place."

Jaimsy shrugged. "Guess he did. I just wanted to check on you, didn't know if you were alright."

"I didn't even do anythin' other than follow soldiers with Tadpole. But I reckon I should go check if everyone else is alright."

"When will you be back?" Will questioned.

"Before sundown. I'll have dinner with you and probably Father, too."

"If you're not…" His sentence trailed off.

"Then I been kidnapped by pirates and need you t' come save me."

"That's not funny, Mouse!" he called back as we walked out.

"Will does not approve of pirates," I remarked to Jaimsy, trying to start a conversation.

"He tried to duel one t' the death not an hour ago, Mouse. I know."

"But he grabbed me by the arm and told me real scary all pirates should be killed or somethin'. Some pirates have gotta be good people!"

"I'm sure there are, but I'm also sure that there are a lot more bad pirates. I do agree that it's wrong to stereotype, though."

"It's wrong to steer a type?"

"Ster-e-o-type. It means to judge a lot of people by the characteristics of only a few of them."

"By the whats?"

"How they act."

"Oh."

Jaimsy is smart. He knows big words, and he can read and write and do sums. His parents used to be rich, but then they were in debt to someone important and now they're poor and Jaimsy is mates with us street rats. But they tried to make him smart, so he can get rich. So he's the smart one of us street rats.

I'm the general leader. I don't actually live on the streets; I live in a house with my father, Stuart Brown, blacksmith and drunkard. Will is his apprentice, and I call him my honorary brother. I don't have a mother (well, I do have a mother, how else could I be alive, but I don't know where she is) and Will has basically raised me. I couldn't love him more if he was my blood brother. Even though I live in a house, the street rats respect me. And yes, "street rats" is an insult, at least to the commodore and others of his ilk, but we wear it as a badge of honor. Turned it right on their heads. We like doing that.

The little kids look up to me. The little kids are the ones under eleven, the ones that keep the street rats going. I'm about their height-some of the older little kids are bigger than me-so they see me as an equal, but the older kids see me as an equal too. I'm the bridge, so everyone gets along.

I'm not actually a bridge, by the way.

I sprinted down the cobblestone-paved hill, off to see my street rat friends in the square. At least until the toe of my worn leather boot slammed directly into a cobblestone that was slightly above the rest.

"Oh, for the love of-" I muttered angrily, taking off my boot and examining my injuries. Nothing visible, but I put it back on and limped the rest of the way to the square.

"Mouse, you's limpin'! Youse been hurted?" cried Freedom Smith, who's a Negro boy and another of my good friends.

"Yes. The evil cobblestone attacked me, but I valiantly escaped," I laughed. "Everyone all right?"

"Mousie, Mousie, didja see the pirate?" shrieked a small voice from an even smaller child than me, Amelia Camilo. Her long curls streaked behind her as she ran to me. Amelia is seven, and her hair, which has never been cut because the girl throws a fit whenever it's suggested, is that awkward color that isn't truly fair-haired and isn't truly brown.

"No, no, Amelia, I did not actually see the pirate," I replied, picking her up and swinging her around. "I got there too late, but Will was dueling him."

"Your _brother_ got to duel a _pirate_?" someone-I couldn't see through the now-assembling crowd of children-murmured enviously.

"I struck the final blow," my father said, coming up behind me. He began to tell a most likely wrong version of fighting off a pirate, while I stood awkwardly behind him. I didn't care what he had to say.

Then I began to make funny faces. I stuck out my tongue and shut my eyes. I gave myself antlers with my hands. A giggle from Amelia. I stood way high on tiptoe and gave my father antlers. More like gave his shoulders antlers, cause I'm so damned tiny. Snickers, laughs from most people. "That wasn't funny!" from my father. I gave also-awkwardly-standing-there Jaimsy antlers. I pretended to fall asleep. I imitated my father. Louder laughs. "Why are you children laughing? MOUSE!"

I stood there, hands at my sides, picture of innocence. "What?"

"Were you making funny faces behind me?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you're friends with these…street rats." His alcohol-coated mouth twisted and warped _street rats_ until it sounded like the worst word you could ever call somebody.

"Hey, don't insult my friends!" It sounded like I meant it playfully, but I was being serious.

"I am your father and I will insult whoever I wish. Now come home and eat dinner. The sun's going down."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I'm not hungry!"

Attempting to calm himself, he took a deep breath. "Maria, _please_ come home for dinner."

"No thank you!" I don't know why polite folk say thank you when they say no.

"Fine, go starve with your street rat friends!" I smelled the distinct scent of alcohol on his breath as he stormed away down the street sulkily.

"What was that 'bout?" Amelia looked up at me, about to cry.

"He was drunk, don't pay attention to him." _Let it go, can't have them worry._ "It's all right, little one. Anyone have money for some sort of food? I'm hungry." There were nods of assent.

Jaimsy held out his hand. "I got this."

In his hand was a small brown sack, tied shut with twine. It looked like the kind of thing you carry money in.

"I saw when they were taking the pirate to the jail. This fell off him."

Untying the thing, I looked in, the yellow shine of golden coin a welcome sight to my eyes.

"Never thought I'd say this, but huzzah for the pirate that almost killed my brother. FOOD TIME!"

"Food!" shouted a few of the little ones, one of whom stood out to me.

"Sophia Langley, why are there bruises all over your face?" I asked.

"'Cause I fell."

"No. Why are there bruises all over your face?"

"I fell!" she insisted, stamping her foot.

"Sophia." I knelt so I could look her straight in the eyes, my hands on her shoulders. "Have you been fighting again?"

"They started it! These two bigger boys, Cameron and Tail, they's told me I was too tiny to be of any use t' anyone so I punched 'em!" She was crying now.

"Tail? Does she mean Taylor?" Freedom asked, his hand on my shoulder. Cameron and Taylor are half-witted but strong boys who work at the docks, unloading things from ships for pay, and they tend to pick on little people.

"Prob'ly. Here, take." I handed over the coin pouch. "Get them" –I waved my hand in the direction of the crowd- "whatever cheap food you can find. Go."

He left, a crowd of little ones following him, like the Pie Piper, who people say ain't real, but I think he is, and he lures children with pie and music and kidnaps them.

"Sophia, you're a strong little girl, and you're a lot of use to us, don't let no one tell you different. But you have to stop fighting!"

"Why? You fight!"

With the last shreds of my almost nonexistent patience, I sighed, "Sophia, I know this is hard for you, but you have to not fight unless they start fighting you. You could get hurt real bad."

"I ain't gonna get hurt! I fight good!"

"Fine! Then get yourself hurt and see if I care!" I shoved her backwards and ran through the twisted up dark mass of Port Royal's alleyways, not knowing where I was headed.

A hand caught my arm. "Mousie, stop."

"Don't call me Mousie." I wormed my way out of Jaimsy's grip.

"No." He grabbed my arm harder. "I know Sophia is a tiring lass, but think-think about how you were, when you were that age."

"And you had to put up with me?" I snorted. "She…she different! I wasn't that bad!"

"Hmmm. Will and I would tell a rather different story."

I stood there. Jaimsy walked away.

I thought about what he had said. Was Sophia really that different from me?

No. No, she wasn't.

"Jaimsy! Jaimsy, I'm sorry!"

"Don't apologize to me, Mousie." I didn't even care that he had called me Mousie. He continued to walk away, towards-well, damned if I knew. "You didn't hurt _me._"

I turned and ran back to the square. Sophia sat there by the fountain, sobbing. Almost no one else was there (probably eating supper, the sun said six-o'clock), and suddenly, I looked at Sophia in a new light.

Her incredibly fair hair fell around her head, no longer the full hair of a small girl who would, barring any severe accidents, grow up to be very pretty, but the thin hair that didn't provide much of a curtain from the outside world when you wanted to cry. Her blue dress, handed down from her three older sisters, no longer looked like a girl who was trying to be "better" than the street rats what were her only friends, but like a girl who was pretending. Shallow, thin, translucent, like paper. Nothing like the pretty, belligerent, confident girl I knew. Sophia didn't even look like Sophia.

_This is your fault. Fix it,_ insisted my conscience.

_Damn you, conscience,_ I thought, but wasted no time running over to the small girl, whose sobs were audible.

Parting the curtain of her light hair, I smiled at her. "Sophia?"

"Go away," she sobbed.

"I-am sorry for yelling at you," I said calmly.

Her left eye was swelling up, so that she couldn't see out of it. She looked up at me with her right. "You's never sorry, Jaimsy just put you up to this."

"Sophia…I used to be like you, and pick fights with everyone who annoyed me even a little bit." My grammar gets better when I'm serious. "But you cain't just go fighting with everyone for no reason."

"But that was a reason!" she pouted.

"It wasn't a good one."

"Yes it was!"

"No, it wasn't. The thing about Cameron and Taylor is that if you fight them, they'll just insult you more. If you ignore them, they'll shut up."

"But I ignore them and they insult me more!"

"Really?"

"They scare me!"

I had never seen this side of Sophia. She seemed so vulnerable.

"Well, next time you have to walk by the harbor, I'll come with you, alright?"

"All-all right," she stuttered, standing shakily. I took her hand.

"It's fine now. Let's go eat."

"M-mangoes sound nice."

"When do they ever not?"

"Never to you," she laughed.

"Never to me," I agreed. I took her hand. "Let's go. They went, um, this-a way! Or maybe that way! No, that way!"

The fair-haired girl tugged at my hand. "Mouse, I think they went that way."

"Why?"

"'Cause they're comin' back from that way."

"Oh. Well then. DID ANYONE SAVE ANY MANGOES FOR ME?"

A mango launched itself from the front of the crowd-probably from Freedom's well-muscled arms-and I reached up and caught it.

"Thanks!" I bit into it, the sweet juice dripping down my chin. "Where did you-all find this?"

"Mista Stapler's store, but he weren't there, see, so-"

"Didja steal it? Freedom." I stopped eating the mango. "You know my rule! If you have the money, don't steal!"

Freedom eyed me warily. "No. We left the money in his pouch, enough for all the food we got."

His face read, _You contradict me, I'm gonna call you a liar in front of them._

Alexander nodded. "He right."

"Fine. Good mango, anyway."

"An' there be more coins left. That pirate had lotsa money, 'parently."

"That be good."

Amelia yawned. "Can we find somewhere to sleep?"

"Like where? I cain't go back to my house, my father's gonna kill me."

"What about Fort Charles?" Jaimsy said.

"What about it? We ain't gonna go in _there_ never."

"Not in it, Mousie, outside of it! You know, that part where the wall comes over?"

"The wall walks over here?" questioned Simon Four. Simon is the smallest of us all; with long black hair that's always hanging into his eyes. He tends to take things like you say, and he's the fourth Simon in his family, so we call him Four sometimes.

"No, Simon, the part where the top of the wall goes out, like this" -I motioned with my hands- "t' the side. I dunno why that's there-"

"To keep soldiers from fallin' off?"

"Who ain't got enough sense in his head to not be fallin' off a wall?"

"Drunks?"

"B'sides drunks."

"Nobody."

"See? So anyways, the top hangs over, so we sleep under that. It be warm enough."

"What if it rains?"

"Four, that's why we _under_ the hang-over part."

"Oh."

"Everyone! Follow me!" I motioned to whoever was left. Some of us have a place to stay nights, myself included, but I wasn't going back there. My father's never hit me, but that's only because I avoid him as much as I can. When I think about it, I sleep outside more than I sleep in my own bed.

We walked to Fort Charles, talking and laughing about anything we could find to talk about, which is just the way of street rats. As I nearly fell over laughing at one of William Williamson's (yes, that is his name) impersonations of Lieutenant Phillip Gillette, who's even more annoying than Norry, I thought _No matter what people say, I wouldn't trade this for the world_.

When we got to Fort Charles, ("My fort!" joked Charles Tanner), Jaimsy, Freedom, and I checked around.

"See anyone?" I asked.

"No one be over here," said Freedom, looking around the left side of the fort.

"I second that," called Jaimsy from the other side.

I sprinted around to the furthest side from Port Royal. "No one!"

"Let's sleep over where Mouse is," Jaimsy herded the little ones over to me. Freedom approached from the other side. "Less chance of being found."

"And they do watches on top, right?" Charles pointed up to the overhang above our heads.

"Yes they do," Nicholas Mullroy answered. Nicholas's older brother is a soldier.

"Sleep time! Lights out!" I grinned at Jaimsy.

"We have no lights!" he reponded playfully.

"So turn them off!" This conversation happens every night. It's one of the things I most love.

I sat, my back against the wall of Fort Charles. Sophia crawled over to me. "Can I sleep against you?"

"Of course."

"But that my job," Amelia murmured drowsily. She was too tired to really protest.

"There's enough room for both," I said. I cuddled them both up next to me. "There's enough Mouse to go around."

"There be barely enough Mouse for Mouse!" Freedom laughed, enjoying, as usual, making fun of my small size.

"I do hereby order you to sleep!"

"Hereby?"

"I dunno what it means, I just heard someone say it."

"Shhh, I trying to sleep, Mousie," said Amelia from my lap. "That's the point of _sleepin'_ on you."

I sighed. "What would I do without you?"

"Be bored." Sophia's voice came from the general area of my shoulder.

"I would, now let's sleep."

The street rats gradually drifted off under the moonlight, none of us aware of the disaster that would happen in a few hours.

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